Their professor--Senior Mage Marc Talon--brushed through Elysia's introduction with the minimum detail. He listed her family, her age, attributes--and that was it. Even with that little bit, however, several of her classmates looked confused. Elysia was reminded of earlier.

Was her new family that well known that everyone knew Sorrel was an only child?

The second he finished, Talon swept a critical gaze over the classroom, eyes seeming to linger on the distance between the empty seats, before shooing a front row student to the back. His order resulted in Idris and Elysia being seated next to one another, which had no doubt been his intention to begin with.

"Now, I believe we left off on a question," their professor began.

As Elysia searched for a quill, Idris propped his head up on his arms and yawned. Talon ignored him, instead seeming to focus on a movement from the chairs behind them. He waved and Elysia twisted around to see a familiar girl with a hawk on her shoulder and her hand high in the air.

"Yes, Salia?"

The brunette's bird ruffled its feathers as the girl smiled, seemingly excited. "You asked how many of us could use magic!"

"That's right," Talon praised. "And I don't believe I got an answer. So, let's try that again. How many of you are currently capable of molding your mana into simple spells?"

Confusion flickered through Elysia's chest as she looked around, noting how few hands were raised around the room. Idris was among them, lazily lifting his palm a mere inch above his arm. She, too, raised her hand.

They were tower applicants. Wouldn't it be odd if they couldn't cast spells?

"More of you than I expected. We should be able to get through most of the basics today, then." Talon flicked his hand and a quill picked itself off his desk. As he continued to speak, the quill drew glimmering trails across the blackboard to his back. "Now, if you're sitting here, that means you're capable of grasping your mana. Does anyone know what the next step would be?"

Salia waved her hand again. Not wanting to be caught staring, Elysia turned back around. Idris didn't bother to lift his head, instead offering another yawn as his own answer.

"Manipulation?" someone ventured.

"That's right," Talon agreed. "And how is that done?"

"Oh, I know!" another interrupted. "You have to use a medium. My mom uses a staff!"

"That would make your mother a physical caster, then," their professor said.

The quill twirled behind him, before it began sketching letters through the air. Elysia furrowed her brow as she slowly deciphered them alongside the beginnings of his lecture.

There were many types of mages in the world. At the most basic levels, they could be divided into mental, physical, and silent casters. Mentals were the most common. Through the memorization of magical seals and the magic of words, they could cast a large variety of attribute spells. Sometimes the seals were visible to the naked eye, other times they were only seen by the mage. But, they always existed.

Physical casters were less common. They used something other than a seal to cast their magic. It wasn't that most mages weren't capable of it, it was just less efficient than mental magic. Casting your mana outside yourself took time and practice. Most mages simply didn't have the time to split their training.

Sorrel and Camila came to Elysia's mind as their professor spoke of the difficulties such mages faced. Every night, they went to the back yard to practice with their weapons. It was time a mental mage could have spent perfecting their mana control. It was why most physical mages didn't join the tower--instead electing to join the knights', adventurers', or mercenary guild.

Finally, there were silent casters. They were those like Elysia who were born with control of their mana. Rarely, humans fell into that category, but typically it consisted solely of other races like the fair folk given it required for your mana to be an intrinsic part of you. A silent caster used their own body as the medium.

It was more dangerous, given that for any caster, a mis-weaved spell could tear apart the medium.

"Today, I'll have you split into four groups based on your casting ability. If you aren't sure what you are, join the fourth and we'll get that figured out."

A few of her classmates stepped down to join him, but the majority split into three groups across the raised levels of the room. Elysia wasn't surprised to see Salia move towards the small group of physical mages. Idris stood hesitantly, casting their professor a look, before carding his fingers through his hair and moving to join the mental mages.

"Wait," Talon called.

Idris paused and glanced at him. Talon sighed, rubbing his neck as he glanced between Idris and the others.

"...join the others, Idris. It will do you more good."

Idris frowned, but moved to sit back down with Elysia. She shot him a curious look, but didn't question the issue. From what she could tell, Idris was a human. But, then again, she'd only seen the majority of races through pictures in books.

He caught her stare and a wry smile crossed his lips. "My family has a silent casting bloodline. Professor Talon probably had me stay here since my grandfather would pitch a fit if I didn't learn it, even if no one inherits it anymore."

Elysia nodded, even if she didn't fully understand. If Idris had a different bloodline, wasn't it better he learned the magic he could use?

The rest of their lesson was spent covering a series of simple magic circles unique to each casting group. Talon lingered amongst each set, gifting them a paper with the circle on it, before easing them through shifting their mana into the shape.

"Make sure you memorize the basic three before our next lesson," he would instruct, before moving onto the next group.

While she didn't recognize the circles he provided, they did feel familiar in some aspects. She could see where they matched the more complicated magic she knew. Which made sense. She only learned the magic that the Circle had required of her. They didn't need her to have knowledge of how to weave the basics--so, they had skipped them.

She shivered, only now realizing how dangerous it had all been.

When the exercise had finished, Talon shooed them back into the tower hall. From there, he led them to a large open field behind the building. Her eyes skipped over it curiously, taking in the various targets, chalked earth, and manastone encircled training grounds.

"If you need water, there's some bottles against the building. Now, let's get running."

She wanted to die.

Magic--that she could do. Running, however, wasn't a mental task, nor was it something natural to her body. In fact, she had spent so much of her life in a singular room, that even with all the leaps and bounds her health had completed since she escaped it, she still struggled with stamina.

By the time they were finished, she was doubled over, hands on her knees as Idris gave her light pats on the back.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, irritatingly fine. "Not everyone is good at everything. Well, unless you're me."

She slapped his hand away.

"Hey, it's the truth! You can't hate me for the truth."

꧁༺ ༻꧂

"Hey, you want me to walk you home?"

Elysia paused outside of the tower gate. As she tilted her head, Idris grinned and rubbed his neck.

"I told your mom I'd watch you," he explained. "She's not here, so you want me to walk with you?"

She considered the question for a moment, her eyes wandering the street before them. To be honest, she only had a small idea of where to go in order to reach their house. Sorrel and the others had walked the path with her many times, emphasizing each turn, but it had quickly become apparent to her that her sense of direction wasn't great. His offer had appeal.

Before she could accept, however, a certain figure caught her attention. She darted away without a word.

"Uh...bye, then!"

Keeping her lessons in mind, she wrapped mana around her feet as she trailed her target. Despite her care, however, it was mere seconds before Aarin sighed. He stopped and turned to face where she stood. He didn't bother to lower the book in his hands, obviously not intending to linger for long. His hood was up, but she could feel the judgment in his hidden gaze. She fidgeted, catching her hands behind her back and standing as tall as she could.

"Elysia."

He tensed. Then, slowly, he grabbed his hood and tugged it down. She could read the confusion, then, that mixed with the curiosity and irritation in his red eyes.

"Elysia?" Aarin echoed.

She nodded and he sighed again. She could see the questions swirling in his face, before the answer occurred to him.

"Your name?"

She smiled alongside another nod, before pointing at his book. He snapped it shut. The faintest hint of red touched his cheeks.

"You got it from this book?" he asked. "You're too little to be reading this."

She shook her head and his shoulders relaxed. "A different one?"

"Yes."

"I see."

They fell into silence for a moment, before he sighed for a final time and tucked his book away. Then, without a word, he turned on a heel and started walking again. She trailed after him. If he wanted her to leave, he had no trouble saying so. He'd done it before.

As the streets became unfamiliar, however, uneasiness crept up her spine, so she grabbed his sleeve. His eyes fell to her, annoyance flickering across his face.

"I'm going to train. Alone. Go back home if you don't want to be here."

She didn't. Instead, Elysia gestured to the sword over her back. He frowned.

"Shouldn't Sorrel be with you?"

At the obvious attempt to dissuade her from staying, Elysia shook her head once again. He swore under his breath, before turning away without a word. Following suit, she trailed after him until they reached an open area near where the town turned into thick forest. Like the tower training grounds, it was littered with straw figures and practice boards. The ground was well worn, missing patches of grass where feet and magic had torn through the earth. Even the nearby trees showed signs of training--boasting scars from throwing knives and other weapons.

Curiosity swelled in her chest as Aarin came to an awkward halt in the center. From the looks he shot her before tugging his hood back up, she had to guess he didn't expect she would stay, or perhaps he just wasn't used to being watched.

Eventually, though, he shook his head and raised his hands.

꧁༺ ༻꧂

It wasn't exactly in his best interests to practice with the kid staring at him like that.

Aarin had made a habit of avoiding others--especially when he was planning to train. He couldn't help it. The moment he summoned his magic their eyes felt like daggers digging into his back--even the gazes of his friends.

Former friends, he reflexively corrected. They had to have written him off by this point. Anything else would be the definition of insanity.

Despite his thoughts, however, Aarin didn't send her away. Even with as little knowledge he had about Elysia, he'd already begun to recognize the stubborn way she set her shoulders. Arguing would be pointless, and he couldn't exactly just scare her off like he did Leander. Still..

Uneasiness tightened his throat.

"Step further back."

Where I can't hurt you.

She tilted her head, but didn't protest. Instead, with her hands hooked behind the small of her back once again, Elysia walked backwards until there was at least a dozen feet between her and the edge of the grounds. He gave her a wave and she moved back again, this time placing her feet behind the border of manastones. That should do.

Drawing in a deep breath, Aarin aligned his hands in front of him. Easily, a red circle flared to life in his mind. The intricate runes felt second nature to him--just like the much cooler mana that echoed through his veins. As heightened as his senses were in that moment, he caught the faint intake of breath on the edge of the field. Had she noticed, then?

Focus.

The girl wasn't what was important at this moment. Gaining control was. Everything depended on that--on calming the anger that surged through him. He would ignore her just as he did everyone else.

He would just pretend she wasn't there.

He would pretend that memories didn't race through his mind the moment he thrust mana into his mental circle.

He'd pretend that the familiar flare of excitement didn't remind him of before.

He'd pretend that the air didn't suddenly seem infected with the stomach curling scent of burning flesh.

He'd just pretend.

Simple.

Heat radiated from his body, scorching the earth as he drew from the environment around them. Fire magic required a source.

Aarin used the sun.

A blade of grass caught flame and he drew the single spark into a white inferno. It swirled around him, licking his skin. His hand thrust forward, fire following. It crashed into the straw figure a dozen feet ahead. Immediately, the target was overtaken. Now.

He released the spell.

'Aarin!'

The flames didn't fall away. Instead they flared alongside the imaginary voice, turning blue as his mana continued to flow. A curse escaped his lips. He grasped the other part of him, the water that cooled his veins. It resisted--the harsh heat of their environment making the magic feel sluggish and wrong. He didn't earn his ranking with nothing, however. His mana cut through, tearing water vapor from the air.

By the time he'd calmed the flames, the straw figure was nothing but ash.

The sight spiraled his mind. It was just a moment--a second--as his thoughts turned to a different time, a different place. A field of bodies, of burning flesh and screaming voices. Of scrapping metal, whispered temptations.

Heat flared again. Embers turned into licking orange flames, eating away at what little fuel remained in the ash. Gods. This is why he couldn't train with others. What would Leander say if he saw this?

It hurt.

His mind hurt.

"Pretty."

Startled, Aarin spun around to face the girl. She blinked, seeming to realize that she'd startled him. Silence burned between them, followed by the determined tensing of her shoulders as she reached some sort of decision.

"It...was pretty. I..." she appeared to be struggling, but Aarin felt no desire to help her. Anger mixed with frustration, pain, everything. "Your mana. The fire. It's..."

Right. She was an elemental. His eyes strayed to her hair, studying the flame red color as tension slowly slid from his shoulders.

"Pretty," he echoed.

He'd thought of several words to describe his magic since he'd first arrived at the tower. But, he had never considered that single, simple word. It made sense that she would. Elementals were their magic.

Still, he couldn't accept it.

The magic that had killed so many wasn't pretty.

Memories crashed through him. The flames turned white, then blue. He swore and caught his magic again, this time drenching the ash until there wasn't a chance it could burn.

Then, he left.

She didn't follow. 

A/N: Wow that too way too long. But! We're back to already written events, finally. Which means the next ones should be easier to put out. See you then~